


Gadreel and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Failed Rebellion

by Kaesa



Series: Kaesa's Whumptober 2019 fics [5]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angel Crowley (Good Omens), Gen, War in Heaven (Good Omens), Whumptober 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-12-27 04:13:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21112451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaesa/pseuds/Kaesa
Summary: The Angel Gadreel has some legitimate grievances, he feels, but also some regrets.(Because let's face it, Crowley was never a very good angel.)





	Gadreel and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Failed Rebellion

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Whumptober 2019, for the prompt "stab wound."

Gadreel was learning all sorts of new words today. Words happened, more or less, when they were needed; nobody had to make them up.

_Weapon _\-- a thing meant for hurting. For burning, or colliding, or most often cutting -- for causing another thing to bleed.

_Bleed _was another one; it meant to leak in an especially painful way.

And _pain _\-- well. That one was hard to define, but easy to understand.

He manifested his own weapon, a jagged thing made of cold terror, and swung it at the seraph who was attacking him, raking it across his wings, but Gadreel was no match for a seraph and he knew it. Gadreel was holding himself together out of sheer spite at this point, having been sliced clean through by a coworker he'd trusted, and one unpracticed swing had him falling forward, leaking the cold darkness of space across the cloud below. The seraph dug a sharp point into his back, and Gadreel tried very hard to concentrate on the chilly discomfort of the bleeding and not the searing, terrible pain.

He decided, if he survived this, and somehow Lucifer won, this was something else they ought to take up with the management, along with the absurd workload of making an entire working universe in seven days, and piss-poor communication, and why annoying coworkers even existed if She could just unmake them and replace them with less annoying versions of the same angel. Pain seemed... bad. Well, pain for Gadreel, personally, anyway. He hadn't done anything to deserve it except for planning a rebellion and attacking some coworkers, and really, it didn't seem fair. He'd barely meant any of it. Really just maybe egged people on sometimes, offered a sounding board. He didn't see how that merited being _stabbed _by some overly aggressive seraph who didn't know him from... well. Anyway.

Gadreel looked around for Lucifer, their glorious leader, and if it was anyone else he wouldn't have seen them in the crowd, but Lucifer was so _bright._Gadreel found him, pierced through by something long and sharp Michael was holding. He was already bleeding in so many places, leaking a cold, white-gold light that made it difficult to look at him for too long. Gadreel had a feeling management was going to win this one.

There was another terrible flash of light as Michael raked the point of her weapon across Lucifer. He fell, and Michael stood over him, covered in streaks of Lucifer's golden light. She put one foot on his neck, and Gadreel imagined he must be too furious to speak, but too wounded to move.

The seraph standing over Gadreel twisted the point of his weapon, and Gadreel shrieked and clawed at the ground, begging for it all to stop. Around him, the rest of the rebels were falling gradually, the fight going out of them as they saw Lucifer lying motionless in front of Michael.

Gadreel was stricken now, with something called _regret,_ which he did not like at all, but couldn't seem to escape, and was almost as painful as being made to bleed. If somebody had tapped him on the shoulder and said _hey, do you really reallywant to rebel against God? Because this is gonna hurt like -- _

He found himself at a loss for any point of comparison.

But anyway, if it'd been put to him like that, with the full knowledge of what pain was, Gadreel thought he probably would have changed his mind. He'd have decided not to rebel well before Michael had come out of the physics office brandishing that sharp thing, that line with an arrow at the end, would have given up his easy off-hours hangouts with barely a "Sorry, guys, but you know how it is, don't want to get cut into pieces by Her flunkies." He could have avoided being stabbed, avoided _losing,_ avoided whatever was going to happen next.

"Lord?" said Michael, raising her eyes piously. "What shall we do with these ingrates?"

The light was suddenly _blinding,_ and it wasn't Lucifer's; this was Her warm light, hotter than suns__.__ **I have prepared a place for them. They don't have to stick around here if they don't want to.**

_No, wait, _Gadreel thought, _but what if I do want to? Wait, I changed my mind!_

"Your mercy knows no bounds," said Michael, serenely.

_Oh no. This is going to hurt, isn't it?_

The light suddenly became overwhelming, blotting out all other sensation, even the cries of his allies and the pain of his wounds, and then, just as suddenly, it was gone, and Gadreel knew he would never see it again. All he knew was that he was hurtling towards someplace he did not want to be.


End file.
